


Eight Years Later

by Brighterthansunshine28



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighterthansunshine28/pseuds/Brighterthansunshine28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years is a long time. But, in some ways, it's no time at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eight years is a long time. 

In those eight years, Rory started her first job, received multiple promotions, left her first job, started a new job at CNN, attended her mother’s wedding to Luke, received multiple promotions, left CNN, and started working for The New York Times. 

It’s there, sitting at her new cubicle, surrounded by stacks of file folders and three computer monitors,  that she sees the voicemail from Lorelai.

“Hey, kid, it’s your grandfather. His heart…” Lorelai’s voice breaks. “Get home as soon as you can, okay? We’re at the hospital now.”

The phone slips from her hand and clatters to the formica surface of her desk, nearly knocking over her tumbler of quickly cooling coffee and sending three pens skittering across the floor. She runs to her editor’s office, blurting out that she has to go and her articles aren’t finished but he’s _dying_ and she leaves before her editor finishes with her polite platitudes and words of empty comfort.

Three hours is a long time.

After a frantic cab ride and racing through her apartment to change out of her blazer and into something more comfortable and packing for an unknown number of days, she navigates her car through the West Village and towards the river, desperate to get the drive to Hartford over with as soon as possible and grateful, at least, that it isn’t rush hour.

The radio is too loud, is playing the wrong music, playing music that is too _happy_ , or the voice announcing traffic and weather is too abrasive, so eventually she turns it off, so there is nothing but the sound of her car on the road and her own thoughts to keep her company as she races homeward.

Thirty years is not enough time.

That’s what she realizes as she leaves the hospital room in the circle of her mother’s arms. Especially since sixteen of those years were lived in virtual estrangement and the last eight were a whirlwind of “see you at Christmas!” and “I’ll call soon, I promise”. 

Luke is waiting in the hallway, pacing back and forth.  Lorelai’s arms leave Rory’s shoulders and she collapses into him, leaving Rory adrift and alone in the brightly lit, sterile hallway. 

Four days later, she is an exhausted shell of herself. Dark shadows ring the underside of her eyes from sleepless nights filled with filing articles for work, writing the eulogy, and keeping her grandmother company in the den at all hours of the day and night. 

The caterers are staggering the departure of garnishless trays from the kitchen, and everyone seems to be circulating well, their muted, respectful voices swirling over the piped-in music, so she grabs a bottle of scotch and a glass and slips out the patio door, headed for the pool and some peace and quiet. 

After slipping off her shoes and easing her aching feet into the water, she pours herself a healthy measure of the scotch and tosses it back, wincing slightly as it burns its way down her throat.

“Wow, Ace,” came softly from the other end of the pool. “I see you’ve gotten over your aversion to good scotch. Although you’re really supposed to sip rather than gulp.”

Eight years is definitely _not_ a long enough time when it comes to Logan Huntzberger.

He still looks good in a suit is just about all she can think as he walks towards her, hands shoved in his pockets as if not to spook her or to physically prevent himself from reaching out to her. 

“I came out here to be alone,” she retorts pointedly, refilling her glass and bolting it down in one swallow. 

“I just came out here to check on you,” he replies gently, folding himself into a seated position next to her, plucking the glass from her hands, and pouring himself a finger of the amber liquid before she could protest. “It looks like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Thanks, Logan. There’s nothing quite like hearing how hellish you look, especially from an ex.” 

They both wince at her tone and her words, but, after a beat, he soldiers on.

“Your eulogy was excellent, by the way. Richard was the best of men. You really captured him without being maudlin or sanctifying him.”

“I really, really don’t want to talk about Grandpa at the moment and I would like my glass back now,” she grits out, reaching towards him but not looking at him, focusing instead on the ripples in the pool water created by her dangling legs.

“We don’t have to talk about Richard,” he agrees, handing her the glass, “but you’re not drinking alone at his wake, either.” 

They sit there for awhile, passing the scotch back and forth, in silence that isn’t exactly comfortable but isn’t uncomfortable, either.

“Mom and Grandma have both kind of gone off the deep end,” she finally ventures. “Yesterday they were fighting over whether Mom’s dress was black enough. Grandma thought it was navy. Then they fought over the menu Sookie put together and whether is was suitably dignified for the passing of Richard Gilmore. Then Grandma said he’d never gotten over Mom having me at sixteen anyway, so her food and clothing choices were irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.” 

“And you’re caught in the middle,” he summarizes. 

“I’m always caught in the middle with them. This is nothing new,” she dismisses.

He tentatively reaches out, resting a hand on her back. When she doesn’t flinch away or rebuff him, he slowly rubs it up and down against the silk of her dress. 

“You’re allowed to grieve, too, Rory. They’re not the only ones in mourning. You loved him just as much.”

She's not sure if it’s the alcohol or his touch wreaking havoc on her system, but suddenly there are tears rolling down her cheeks unchecked, and she can feel the breakdown coming.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she sobs. “You don’t have to do this. I haven’t seen you in eight years, for crying out loud.”

He pulls her closer so her head is resting on his shoulder, and rubs slow circles on her back. “What can I say, Ace? I’m a one-man bucking-up brigade,” he teases lightly, proffering a handkerchief with his other hand.

She laughs at that and takes a shuddering breath, regaining self-possession. “The bucking-up always seems to take place in and around the pool house, doesn’t it? There isn’t a naked Finn lurking, is there? Because I am not sure my stomach can handle that right now…too much liquor and too little food.”

She dabs at her eyes and pulls her legs out of the pool. “I should probably get back,” she says regretfully, getting to her feet. “But thank you for being a…friend…when I needed it, Logan. Truly.”

He holds her elbows firmly as she climbs unsteadily into her shoes, letting his hands trail lightly down her arms before shoving them back in his pockets.

“It was good to see you.” He looks as if he’s about to say more, but Luke rounds the corner and lets Rory know her mother has been looking for her. He eyes Rory and Logan and the space (or lack thereof) between them warily, but leaves after delivering the message.

“I’ve been missed,” she murmurs.

“Yes,” he replies simply, and she doesn’t know if he means just by her mother or if there are other things implied in that word. Before she can parse it, or her feelings about it further, he continues, “I really am sorry about Richard. Oh, and congrats on The Times. I saw the byline the other day and did a double take, but I’m not surprised.” 

He hands her the bottle and the glass, squeezes her hand, presses a kiss to her cheek, and walks away, leaving her stunned next to the pool. 

Oh yeah, eight years was _definitely_ not enough time when it comes to Logan Huntzberger.


	2. Interlude

Rory emerges from her room two days later to find her mother waiting expectantly at the table, coffee and doughnuts at the ready.

“Morning,” she mumbles, reaching for the coffeepot and mug. “Are you going to the Inn today?”

“In a bit,” Lorelai replies. “Luke’s already at the diner, so I thought we could take a minute to talk. I want to make sure you’re doing okay with everything.”

“I’ve been better,” Rory says dryly, popping a doughnut into her mouth, before turning serious. “I don’t know, Mom. Grandma seems to have gone off the deep end, but I have to get back to work on Monday, so aside from calling and visiting on weekends, I’m not sure how much I can do for her, you know?” 

“Aw, kid, you can be there for her. And she’ll either accept it or she won’t. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Lorelai rifles through the various newspaper sections on the table for a minute, stealing furtive glances at Rory, who appears to be staring vacantly at the magnets on the refrigerator.

“So, there’s something I actually did want to discuss. Something Luke mentioned.”

Rory’s eyes narrow and focus on her for a moment before she refocuses on her coffee and doughnut. “What’s up?” she blithely inquires, in a tone so innocent that Lorelai knows she’s hit on something. 

“He said he saw Logan at the wake. With you.” When Rory offers no response, she plows on. “He said you were standing close together by the pool.”

“We were drinking together,” Rory allows, before getting up to refill her mug. 

Lorelai blinks at her, mouth slightly agape. “Wait, seriously? I was all ready to ask Luke if he’d taken quaaludes at the wake, but here you are _confirming_ this insane story?”

Rory leans back against the counter and wraps an arm around her midsection. “Seriously.”

“So you and your ex-boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen in eight years, decided to drink together at Dad’s wake.” 

“That sounds about right.” Rory stares impassively back at her mother, sipping her coffee calmly.

“Oh my god, kid, why aren’t you freaking out? Why didn’t you say something to me?”

She rolls her eyes at her mother’s increasingly high-pitched tone, surveying her over the mug. “Because I’m not twenty-two anymore? I’ve grown up. I can see an ex and not have a meltdown; it wasn’t that big of a deal. Besides, I’ve been busy trying to keep Grandma from completely and utterly losing her mind.”

“Well that ship sailed a long time ago, but it’s nice that you’re trying. You’re sure you’re okay with all the Logan stuff?”

Huffing, Rory rolls her eyes again. “Mom, seriously. It was nice of him to offer comfort when needed, but there’s nothing to it beyond that. Honestly, we barely talked. There’s nothing to be ‘okay’ with.”

“If you say so,” her mother says doubtfully before shoving her chair back and putting her empty mug in the sink. “And I’m off to the Inn to make sure Michel hasn’t driven off all my customers while I’ve been…otherwise occupied. You heading home today?”

“Back to the grind. My editor’s been great but I’m out of time.”

“I’m off. Lunch at Luke’s before you head out?”

Rory shoots her mother a dry look. “Where else would we go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Rory-Lorelai before we get back to the good stuff. Like it? Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Rory’s life settles quickly back into its little routines: skimming headlines over coffee at her breakfast bar, catching up on emails on her subway ride to the office, writing, re-writing, and edits, socializing with friends or attempting to date (she’s still a girlfriend girl at heart, but has gotten better at dating around), and the occasional weekend trip to Hartford to check in on her grandmother or to Stars Hollow to see her mother.

The routines help relieve the ache left by her grandfather’s death; help her focus on something other than how much she misses him. How much the Gilmore girls relied upon him to keep the peace between them.

Several months after the wake, she strolls into the trendy Chelsea restaurant after work and spots the familiar blonde head at the bar, already nursing a drink.

“I’ll have what you’re having, this has been the week from hell,” she complains as she plops into her seat.

“Unlikely, Gilmore, you hate tequila and I’m drinking a margarita on the rocks. And, wow, reporting on election fraud and city council corruption must be brutal. Especially when compared to your friends who are literally saving lives and holding hearts in their hands,” comes the acerbic reply.

Rory rolls her eyes at Paris. “Well, whatever has gone on in your life this week, drink up and have another. The tequila’s not working fast enough. Once it kicks in you can tell Aunty Rory all about it.”

Paris salutes her with her glass while Rory attempts to catch the eye of the bartender. Just as she’s wondering if she should unbutton another button of her blouse to get his attention, she notices that Paris is staring at the door of the restaurant with a stupefied look on her face. 

“Oh. holy. _shit_ ,” she swears.

Turning to see what has shaken the inimitable Paris Geller McMaster so intensely, she’s somewhat nonplussed to see that it’s only Logan entering. She swings back in her chair to _definitely_ unbutton that second button and is gratified by the bartender taking notice. 

“Why aren’t you upset? Or freaking out? Or…anything? I thought you’d be in hysterics. He tended to bring out the dramatic in you.” 

Rory shakes her head and places an order for a double gin and tonic and another round for Paris. “I saw him a few months ago at Grandpa’s wake. And you sound like my mother.”

When the drinks come, they sip in silence for awhile, but Paris’s restraint only lasts for so long. “So you saw him recently? For the first time?”

“We had a drink together and Grandpa’s wake. I hadn’t seen him since graduation,” she pauses to take a sip (gulp) of her drink. Despite some protestation otherwise, the memory of that day, of him walking away from her, still did sting. “We talked, briefly, and then Luke came to find me and I left. That’s literally been it.”

“I’m going to use the restroom,” Paris announces abruptly, draining her drink. “Order us some food,” she commands before stalking off.

Briefly contemplating the pros and cons of keeping Paris as a friend (a list in its 15 th year and counting), she opts instead to pull out her phone, fire off a few messages to her mother, and flirt with the bartender until Paris’s return.

_Why do I keep Paris around again? She drives me insane_.

_If you weren’t able to ditch her in college, you were never going to be able to ditch her. Besides, she’s really hard to get rid of. I tried and failed. Even Michel couldn’t do it. You’d need the mob. Although they might be afraid of her, too._

_I’d need another Paris to ditch Paris for me...in some scary infinite loop._

_Gotta go, cute bartender ;)_

_Details later!_

She slips her phone back into her handbag and makes eye contact with the bartender again, motioning for another round. She’s halfway through perusing the bar menu when she feels Paris return.

“So, I’m only halfway down this list and everything looks so freaking good, I want it all,” she comments without looking up. “Have you been here before?”

“I’ve heard good things about a truffled mac and cheese bite,” come a voice much to deep to be Paris’s.

“You’re not Paris,” she accuses, looking up to see none other than Logan grinning at her.

“Excellent powers of observation. She’s holding my dad hostage and while I thoroughly enjoy watching him squirm in conversation with her, I thought I’d duck out and say hi. So, hi.”

They smile affectionately at each other. Rory takes him in, noting how sinfully good he looks in a suit ( _some things never change_ , she thinks to herself) and that his blond hair is still prone to messiness. He’s sporting scruff, something she used to find unattractive, but times do change, because now, well…

Attraction was never the issue between them. Still, she’s relieved to be in a form-fitting blouse and skirt for this run-in. 

“You holding up, Ace? I mean, I’ve seen you twice in eight years and both times have involved alcohol.”

“Oh, you’re funny. How are _you_ holding up? I mean, having dinner with your dad?” She is completely unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice as she follows this line of questioning.

“Uh, well, we’re discussing business.” He shoots her that sheepish grin of his and she knows, she _knows_ , without asking that he’s gone back to the family fold in the intervening years. 

The bartender arrives at that inconvenient moment and they go down the menu ordering everything she’d thought looked good before plus everything that looks good from the bottom half of the menu as well. When she realizes that they’ve, in fact, ordered 9 appetizers and even she can’t put away that much food anymore, she muses aloud that he continues to be a bad influence in her life.

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, sipping their drinks. Rory thinks about following-up on him working for Mitchum, but then decides that she doesn’t really need to know the particulars. Logan going back to HPG was inevitable.

(And she can always Google him if she’s feeling desperate for details, timelines, etc.)

But what she _does_ need to know, what has eaten away at her at times over the last few years, is not something she can research later. 

“You happy?” She tries to be offhand about it, but there’s no mistaking her sincerity. “With life and everything?”

His eyes dart to hers and then away before returning. “Yeah, most of the time, I am.”

The first of the appetizers arrives and he chuckles at the look of delight on Rory’s face at the truffled mac and cheese bites. “I told you I heard they were good here!” he laughs, popping one into his mouth and standing to make his exit. “I suppose I should go rescue my dad from Paris.”

“Send over an SOS if you get sucked in, too,” she laughs, pointing a chicken skewer at him. “I’d say text me, but I have no idea if you still have my number.”

“Has it changed from college?”

“Nope.”

“Then I still have it.”

She pauses before popping a mac and cheese bite into her mouth. “Use it sometime?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now go save your dad from my weirdo best friend.”

She feels his lips brush against her cheek and a “Bye, Ace!” called over his shoulder as he heads away from the bar and into the restaurant. 

Munching happily on potsticker, she realizes that maybe the bartender wasn’t that cute after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! And come play on tumblr: brighterthansunshine28.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay - hopefully everyone is forgiving when they hear why: my husband and I welcomed our third child, a daughter, this past month! It's been a little harder than anticipated to switch from one-on-one coverage to zone defence. As such, please excuse any typos. I'm delirious.

“This place smells delicious,” Lorelai comments, inhaling appreciatively as she walks into the restaurant with Luke. “Oh, look, there’s Rory.”

They weave through tables of well-dressed New Yorkers and greet Rory. “Happy Friday Night Dinner,” she jokes, standing up and hugging them both. “So what brings you into my neck of the woods?”

“I had a meeting with a PR firm. Our current firm has been blowing me off lately so I’m shopping around. Then I did some literal shopping around,” she grins evilly.

“Yeah, I saw the bags in the closet of the hotel room,” Luke interjects. “Don’t think they were that well hidden.”

Lorelai shrugs, turning her attention back to the menu. “Have you been here before? What’s good?”

“Everything, I promise. Even the bread is yummy.”

Conversation drifts to their various jobs, the election cycle, how Emily is doing, the success of Jess’s latest book, updates from April’s sophomore year at Berkeley, and the various goings-on of Stars Hollow. (Lorelai is certain Andrew and Gypsy are secretly together, and is spending an inordinate amount of time and energy trying prove it.)

(Neither Rory nor Luke are convinced.)

Over dessert and coffee Lorelai eyes Rory’s outfit…the silk top, the skinny jeans, the way her makeup seems heavier than normal for a workday. Or for dinner with mom and stepdad. “You heading out after this, kid?” she asks nonchalantly. “You’re a little dressed up for work or dinner with just us.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m meeting someone for drinks. Why, do I look too fancy?” Rory looks down at her outfit uncertainly. “I really didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.”

“You look great. Really beautiful, actually. You’re going to drive that guy to a proposal you look so good,” Lorelai jokes.

Rory coughs a little into her coffee and Lorelai’s eyes narrow.

“That was supposed to be a joke, Rory.”

“Obviously,” she retorts, but offers nothing further. Luke just retreats into his herbal tea and watches the traffic passing out the window, leaving them to it.

“But it isn’t a joke, is it? Are you seeing Logan tonight?” 

“Please at least attempt to keep the disgust from your voice, Mom,” she says dryly, but both Lorelai and Luke notice that she doesn’t deny it. 

“So the whole ‘I haven’t seen him in eight years and it was nothing’ conversation we had right after the wake was nonsense? Because you seeing him there and then having drinks with you looking like that doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“I think Rory looks lovely,” Luke interjects.

“Thank you, Luke,” she replies primly before picking up her handbag and backing her chair away from the table. She turns to her mother. “It’s obvious that you are still unable to keep your opinions on Logan to yourself. I, however, am no longer a twenty two year old college student. I have a job, an apartment, and a life. And if I want that life to include Logan in any form, platonic or otherwise, I’m going to make that decision. We’ve grown up and moved on. Maybe it’s time you did the same.” 

She kisses Luke on the cheek and strides through the restaurant, her heels clicking on the tile. Through the window, they can see her on her phone, hailing a cab.

“That went well,” he comments. Upon seeing the combination of distress and anger on Lorelai’s face, he places his hand over hers. “Hey, Rory’s going to make her own decisions. And they’ve almost always been great ones. She was a great kid and is a fantastic adult.”

“I didn’t like him then and I don’t like him now,” Lorelai replies stubbornly. “You know they got drunk together at Dad’s wake. That’s not normal Rory behavior, Luke, don’t you see that?”

“You’re acting paranoid and you’re going to drive her away if you keep on with this Italian mafia-style vendetta against Logan,” he eventually responds. “You never gave him much of a chance because he had money.”

Lorelai gapes at him, her coffee cup halfway between its saucer and her mouth. 

“He was spoiled and rebelling against everything his dad wanted for him, which sounds fairly familiar, by the way, and he was young. But he wasn’t the villain you have built him up to be.”

“I can’t believe you’re not taking my side on this,” she complains. “He treated Rory like crap, spent money like it meant nothing, was fond of issuing ultimatums, and was constantly partying with those fools whose names I can’t remember.”

“Because you never made mistakes or went through a phase you grew out of? You’re perfect?”

Lorelei’s face hardens and she collects her handbag. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“Just remember where pushing too hard against Logan got you the last time, Lorelai. No one wants that to happen again.”

He stands and pulls her chair out for her. She frowns as she follows him out of the restaurant.

#####

Thirty blocks downtown, Rory works her way into the bar, smiling when she sees a familiar blond head already waiting for her. The brief bit of worry she had about her outfit vanishes when Logan’s eyes rove appreciatively over her body as he stands to greet her. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says, kissing her cheek. “As always.”

“You should only wear this,” she replies, taking in his navy suit and blue dress shirt.

He smirks, then gestures to the bar. “I already ordered you a g&t. Hope that’s okay. You sounded…frustrated on the phone.”

She rolls her eyes. “My mother can’t accept the fact that I’m an adult. Compound that with your reappearance in my life, and, well…” Rory trails off.

“Still not my biggest fan, huh?”

“Not really,” comes to rueful reply. “I think you remind her too much of my dad.” They each settle into their seats and clink glass merrily. “Speaking of dads,” Rory begins leadingly.

“Yeah, I work for mine now,” he laughs. “Went out west for awhile, the start-up was bought out after a few years, spent some time freelance writing, and eventually Dad made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. We spent nearly eight weeks negotiating the specifics of the arrangement and how it would work. I was not about to be dangling at his beck and call after managing a company on my own for six years. So we had to come to some terms.”

“And things are going well?”

“Mostly. I occasionally have to remind him that I’m not a twenty-two year old twat anymore.” 

Rory snorts inelegantly at that, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “And how on earth do you accomplish that?”

“Show up to meetings on time, do my work, do it well, don’t blow the expense account on trips to Vegas. You know, the basics.”

“Ohhhh, you mean you live up to all that potential that everyone always knew was in you?”

“Something like that, Ace, something like that.”

She idly peruses the food menu, though she’s still full from earlier. “Did you eat? I had dinner with Mom and Luke, but could probably nibble at something if you’re hungry.”

“The infamous Friday Night Dinner tradition continues, huh?”

“Complete with uncomfortable conversation and parental judgment,” Rory laughs. She finishes her drink, her resolve to keep this first meeting as sober and platonic as possible slightly falling by the wayside.

She fiddles with the straw in her drink, shooting him furtive glances from under lashes. She’d been worried all week that this meeting would be awkward, given their history, but it’s been the complete opposite. 

“I already ate,” he says, nodding towards the menu. “But maybe dessert after another round? There’s a great bakery not far from here.”

Her eyes light up. “Billy’s? They have the best cupcakes!”

“It’s a plan.”

They order another round (Rory vows it will be her last, lest foolish decisions be made) and fall into the sort of easy back and forth that made their relationship so easy a decade earlier. She tells him about Paris’s bachelorette weekend (and how Paris had nearly burned their rented beach house down lighting candles while drunkenly sleepwalking at 3AM), the campaign trail with Obama, and a recent assignment that had landed her on the front page of the Times (below the fold, but still). 

He tells her about Silicon Valley, his adventures as a Fun Uncle to Honor’s two children, and fills her in on what Colin and Finn are up to these days. (Colin finally buckled to familial pressure: he works for his father and is married. Finn, on the other hand, was last seen partying in St. Barth’s about a month ago, and no one has heard anything from him since.)

“He did promise to show up for our reunion next month, though, so I’m sure he’ll resurface,” Logan says with a shrug. “He always materializes when the LDB gets together.”

He smoothly reaches out and pulls the check away from her hand, putting down cash and waving away her protests with a vague “next time, Ace”.

They step out into the September air. “Still up for cupcakes?” she asks hopefully. “The bakery isn’t far from here.”

“You up for the walk in those shoes?” he counters, eyeing her heels doubtfully. 

“If my feet give out you can carry me. Or, you know, we can get in these modern conveniences known as cabs.”

They start strolling down the street, falling into easy stride together. Rory reaches out to take his hand in hers, just like she has hundreds of times before, smiling up at him, as they pause at a cross street.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and kind thoughts about my newest little one! She’s a true joy. It’s definitely slowed down my writing a bit, but I am committed to finishing the story.

“What a darling little dress you’re wearing tonight, Rory,” Emily gushes over a cocktail in the Gilmore sitting room. “Part of me wishes I was your age so I could wear these adorable dresses. When I was your age we wore stockings, girdles, hats, and gloves.”

“You wore pretty dresses, too, Grandma,” Rory replies mildly.

“You do look extra lovely this evening, though. That color blue is just perfect on you, I’ve always said so.”

“Thank you. I am heading to New Haven after dinner, so this color seemed appropriate.” She sips her drink slowly, checking her watch. “When is Mom coming?”

Emily’s lips thin. “She has something to do at the Dragonfly, so she isn’t coming.” She swirls her drink in her glass. “This is the third time in a row she’s had some sort of an excuse for dinner or lunch with the two of us.”

“The Inn is so popular for weddings, especially with all the foliage…” Rory says noncommittally.

"She's avoiding me. I don't know why, I don’t know what on earth she’s mad at me about, but she’s definitely avoiding me.” Emily gets up to pour herself another martini. “I even made sure to mention, even emphasize that you would be here, so she wouldn’t balk at coming. But, no, Lorelai has better things to do than spend time with her grieving mother and her daughter.”

Settling herself back in her Louis Quatorze armchair, she continues her rant. “I just don’t understand her sometimes. She practically lived with here during your grandfather’s illness and afterwards but now she can’t be bothered?”

Rory shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. “Well, Grandma, I’m not entirely sure that she’s avoiding you.”

“Have you not been paying attention, Rory? It’s obvious she’s avoiding me. She’s certainly not avoiding you.”

“Actually, I think she is. We had a…disagreement…the last time I saw her and we’ve barely spoken since.” Emily says nothing, but stares at her in astonishment. “And that was about a month ago.” Rory is calm as she shares this with her grandmother, but avoids looking at her, choosing instead to look at the floral pattern of her skirt as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“You’re fighting? What on earth are you fighting about? The last time you fought was ten years ago about Yale!” Her eyes narrow when Rory continues to study the skirt of her dress rather than answer her.

The sit in silence for a few minutes. “So you’re not going to answer me, then?”

“I’d prefer not to, to be honest, Grandma. Without going into detail, I’ll say that I am unhappy with Mom and how she has treated me and some decisions I’ve made in recent months. She gets very angry when I don’t listen to what she wants me to do with my life, rather than respect that I’m an adult who can make decisions for herself.”

The maid (Elisabetta? Rory has ceased to keep track of the endless parade) announces dinner and they move into the dining room. They make light chitchat about Rory’s work, the DAR, and Emily’s various charity functions. 

“Dessert is delicious, Grandma,” Rory says as she all but inhales her slice of chocolate cake.

“The way you eat and that trim figure is unbelievable, my dear.”

“I appreciate food!” she protests. “But I’ll admit to you that I do occasionally hit the gym.”

“Do you?”

“Mmhmm. I enjoy yoga and Pilates, and have been going on the occasional run, especially since it’s cooled off a bit.”

Emily eyes Rory over her coffee. She’s held her tongue on the fight with Lorelai all evening, as Rory has been noticeably on edge since she sniffed it out during the cocktail hour. “You mentioned heading to New Haven after dinner?” She notices the slight flush that comes over Rory’s skin and realizes she’s come across yet another topic Rory was hoping to avoid.

“Yes, I’m attending a reception this evening and some other activities tomorrow.”

“How charmingly vague of you, Rory,” she says dryly as the flush on Rory’s face deepens. “Is it a Daily News function?”

“No, this is just a fun reunion weekend for a group of us who happen to be in or near town now.”

“A group of whom, dear?”

“My friends, Grandma. It’s nothing special,” and, dismissing the line of conversation further, she places her napkin next to her plate and stands. “But I do need to get going.”

Rory collects her coat and handbag from the maid and turns to kiss Emily’s cheek. “Dinner was lovely, thank you.”

“Of course, Rory, I’m honored that you still indulge me in a near-weekly meal. Give my best to Paris and Doyle.” 

“Of course! Paris is at a medical conference of some sort, but when I see her next I will tell her.”

Emily’s eyes narrow at her granddaughter. “So they’ll not be there tonight? She’s your best friend, I thought, after Lane.”

“No, not this time.”

“So who will be there, then?”

“Do you remember Stephanie, Rosemary, and Juliet? They were a year ahead of me, but we stayed friends.” Despite attempting to remain vague, Rory sees her grandmother’s face light up at their names and knows that she’s in for it.

“Weren’t they good friends with Logan?”

“Yes, they were all part of the same crowd, Grandma.” Rory edges towards the door, not liking the gleam in Emily’s eyes.

“And wasn’t Logan with his parents at the wake? I thought I’d heard your mother say you’d disappeared at some point…”

“Uh, he was at the wake. He was very sweet, offering his condolences after the way we ended so many years ago. It was very unexpected. I hadn’t seen him since my graduation day.”

Rory sees the moment Emily puts two and two together and arrives at four and braces herself for the reaction.

“Oh my God, you’re back together with Logan Huntzberger! Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, how dare you keep this from your grandmother! After all I’ve been through this year, you knew this would cheer me up, and you kept it from me!” Emily turns and storms into the sitting room, leaving Rory momentarily stunned, standing helplessly in the foyer.

Gathering her wits, she follows after her grandmother. “Grandma, there’s nothing to tell, really! I saw him at the wake, and then we bumped into each other in New York. We’re…friendly.”

“Is this why you’re fighting with Lorelai?”

“She’s not thrilled at his reappearance in my life. Even if it is just platonic.” 

“And nothing romantic is happening between you?” Emily presses, clearly disappointed.

“Nothing at all.”

___

Rory breathes a sigh of relief when she is finally able to emerge from the house several long minutes later. She breathes an even larger sigh of relief 45 minutes later when she walks into Rich Man’s Shoe and sees the familiar sight of Logan, Colin, and Finn at the bar.

She makes her way through the crowd and sidles up next to Finn. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns,” she quotes dryly.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” he replies with a large grin before sweeping her up in a big hug. “You look stunning, love.”

She turns to Colin. “A little birdie told me you were married recently. Congratulations!” They exchange pleasantries for a few minutes before she moves to properly greet Logan. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers in her ear as leans in to kiss her cheek. They turn back to Colin and Finn, and if either of them notice the way Logan’s hand rests possessively on Rory’s hip, they say nothing.

Conversation swirls around them as they enjoy the society of various Brigadiers; lots of catching up on lives and Rory is shocked at how many of them have seen her byline in the Times. 

“Who knew so many of them would be reading the newspaper?” she murmurs to Logan as they sit together in a booth for a quiet minute together. “Or, for that matter, leading relatively adult lives?”

Logan laughs at the disbelief in her voice. “Most of us did go to class and get decent grades, you know, Ace.”

“So the law breaking and anarchy collective was what?”

“Youthful indiscretion before settling down to a monotonous life of corporate success as approved by the parental units?” he offers. At the roll of her eyes, he continues. “You know we all had parents that were both hands-off yet had crippling expectations. What better way to blow off some steam than silly stunts and copious amounts of alcohol?”

Rory has a brief flashback to her first introduction to his parents and grandfather, and to the stories Honor had shared with her over the years. She pokes her straw around in her drink and shoots him a smile. “As someone who came late to the drinking party, I see your point.”

“People seem to be taking your reappearance in stride,” he comments.

“Well, Robert’s already hit on me twice, so in that respect nothing’s changed,” is her glib response. 

“God he’s an asshole.”

“He’s your friend!”

They grin goofily at each other for a moment before Logan breaks the moment. “How’s Emily?”

“She seems better, although she thought Mom was avoiding her, not me. So when she found out that we were having issues, she was upset. Then, when I wouldn’t give her anything there, I inadvertently let it slip I’d be seeing you here tonight. It was like when we started dating all over again, she was so excited.”

“Well,” he smirks, “I’m known to be quite a catch, Rory.”

“It’s nice to see your ego is still intact. Although…” she trails off, shooting him a wry look. “You should know I told her we were just friends, so that might deflate the ego just a bit.”

“You wound me, Ace.”

“Evasive maneuvers with the elders, Logan. She had that maniacal gleam in her eye. She only gets that when she feels compelled to set me up with a suitable gentleman or when I brought you home.”

“So things are not back to normal with Lorelai?”

“Ugh, no!” Rory exclaims. “It’s like she thinks I’m back in college and if she freezes me out long enough I’ll do what she wants. Luke’s trying to talk sense into her, but something about you has always caused her to go insane.”

“I seem to have that effect on the Gilmore women,” he cracks, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Mmmm,” she hums, eyes darkening. “That you do.”

His eyes move from hers to survey the somewhat thinning crowd in the bar. “Think we can escape unnoticed? Then I can work on driving you insane in private.”

Rory inhales sharply, still somewhat surprised by how he can turn her on in an instant, even after all these years. “They seem drunk enough. Or in Finn’s case, both drunk enough and occupied with hitting on any remaining single women. I think we’re good.”

He rises, then offers her a hand to help her from her seat. 

“Is it working?” he murmurs quietly into her ear, hands slowly drifting from her shoulders to her waist. Her eyes meet his, cloudy with confusion and want. “Me driving you insane?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Let’s get out of here now. We’ve waited long enough.”

He takes her by the hand, pulling her through the bar and out into the street. “Your wish is my command.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO...the revival. It actually addresses some of the issues I do in this chapter, which has been sitting on my laptop for two weeks, waiting to be edited (sorry). No explicit spoilers, but WOW do I have feelings. Head on over to my tumblr if you want to share in my feelings extravaganza (brighterthansunshine28 dot tumblr dot com), or leave them in the comments. Only one or two chapters left!

Rory sits in her car in the Dragonfly parking lot, mentally pepping herself up for the conversation - _argument_ \- that she knows is forthcoming with her mother.

“You’re stalling, Ace,” floats Logan’s voice from the car’s Bluetooth. “You’ve questioned leaders of the free world. You’ve interviewed President Obama. You’ve survived multiple dinners with my family. You can have one teensy conversation with your mom.”

She smiles before retorting, “I’m still not entirely sure we survived those dinners, Logan. Alternate universe Rory is still curled up in a ball rocking back and forth from the set-downs Shira would send my way.”

“Dad’s come around. He’s 100% Team Rory.”

“Mitchum is a pragmatic opportunist, unlike your mother. He’s hoping to lure me from _The Times_ to work for HPG.”

“He’s still very pro-you,” Logan counters.

Rory lets out an unladylike snort. “He’s pro whatever keeps you on track with work.” She checks her hair and lipstick in the mirror, before snapping it shut regretfully. “Okay, I’m going in. Operation Ambush is underway.”

“Call me when you’re done.”

She hears the disembodied beeping of her iPhone disconnecting and tosses it into her handbag. A deep breath later she exits the car and steps into the crisp Stars Hollow morning, appreciating the early winter light against the Thanksgiving decorations festooning the Inn’s exterior.

“Hi, Michel,” she singsongs upon finding the Frenchman at his usual post at the desk. “Is my mother around?”

“Little Lorelai, your mother’s whereabouts are of zero interest to me. Now, get out of the way; you are blocking my view of the door, and that prohibits me from greeting the guests as they enter.”

Rolling her eyes, she heads back to the kitchen to filch a cup of coffee. The kitchen is, as ever, a hive of activity, with Sookie and sous chefs chopping and sautéing and generally running around busily.

“Hey, Sookie, is there coffee in the pot?”

“Hey there, Pop Tart! I just put on a fresh pot a few minutes ago. Your mom cleaned me out.” Sookie pulls a large mug off a shelf and pours a cup for Rory. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Rory dutifully poses with her mug, indulging Sookie with an affectionate smile. “You’re looking so grown up and sophisticated these days, Rory, I can’t believe it! It feels like just yesterday you’d run in the kitchen at the old Independence Inn, wearing your Chilton uniform, begging for cookies for Dean…” her voice trails off, clearly lost in thought.  
“He loved your rocky road cookies, Sookie.”

“Maybe I’ll add them to the Thanksgiving menu, just for old time’s sake. The kids love them and I haven’t made them in ages. Manny! Add rocky road cookies to the menu for Thursday!” After Manny replies that he will add them to the menu, Sookie refocuses her attention on Rory. “Are you looking for your mom? She should be in her office or in the library.”

“You’re the best, Sookie, thank you.” Refilling her mug on the way out the door, she pokes her head into her mother’s office, but finds the cheery room empty. Her mother is in the library, surrounded by fabric and paint swatches and wallpaper samples.

“Are you redecorating the Inn?” she asks, hovering in the doorway. She sees her mother stiffen slightly, though her voice is normal when she replies.

“It’s time for a refresh in some of the guest rooms, I think. I think it’s starting to look a little tired? It’s been over a decade since we opened, so it’s been awhile since we did anything other than replace linens and repaint here and there. But, I don’t know, I still love what we have…I just want it to be new again.”

Rory moves into the library, closing the door behind her as she goes. “So maybe refresh with what you already had? Then it’ll be like new again?” She plops down on the sofa across from Lorelai. “Just don’t get rid of this couch; it’s my favorite. So comfy.”

Lorelai purses her lips, surveying the swatches and samples laid out before her. “It just seems silly and wasteful to replace what we have with the exact same thing rather than something new.”

“Sometimes you just know what you want, Mom.”

Their eyes meet and Rory can see her mother gearing up for a fight.

“You do see the irony of you picking out the exact same wallpaper and fabric as you did ten years ago but giving me crap over dating Logan again, don’t you?” she says dryly.

“Nice try, kid, but wallpaper and men are two very different things.”

“So I take it you’re still completely against me dating Logan? Based on how he was as a twenty-two year old, _nearly ten years ago_ , and your own prejudices.” Rory can hear her voice rising in pitch and in volume, but can’t be bothered to keep it down.

“I’m not prejudiced against Logan!” Lorelai protests. When Rory scoffs, she continues, “I’m not! I just think some doors are better left unopened. Or un-re-opened, in this case.”

“ _Why_?” Rory presses.

“Because he’s smarmy and entitled and immature and just like your father!” she blurts out. “You have to have noticed that he’s a _lot_ like Christopher.”

“Interesting,” muses Rory, “I always thought he was more like _you_. He was definitely immature when we first met, in some ways, rebelling against Mitchum. Reminds me of you rebelling against Grandma.”

Silence envelops the library, heavy and oppressive.

“Just because he has money doesn’t make him evil,” Rory continues. “It didn’t then and it doesn’t now. You are terribly against everyone with wealth, so concerned that it makes them shallow and entitled. I know that he and I had a…tumultuous relationship at times. But he has grown up. I’ve grown up. I’m not going to let fear of disappointing you stop me from being with him.”

Lorelai eyes her warily. “Did that fear…did I hold you back before?”

“I turned down his proposal because I wasn’t ready to be married; I didn’t want our relationship to end, but I wasn’t ready to be married. But a big part of me knew you’d be disappointed if I accepted.”

Rory watches as her mother closes her eyes and scrubs at her face. “I didn’t say anything one way or the other after he proposed, Rory, you can’t lay the blame for that at my feet!”

“You don’t have to say anything for me to know what you think, Mom. I’m not stupid.”

“You have had your moments.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’ve made mistakes. And whenever I haven’t acted like the perfect angel child or the way _you_ want me to behave, you get angry and freeze me out. You did it when I slept with Dean and when I took my semester off from Yale. You’re doing it now! But I’m not going put up with it this time. You have a very clear choice now, Mom: make nice with Logan and invite him to Thanksgiving dinner, or we will be spending it and all holidays for the foreseeable future elsewhere.”

“I don’t like ultimatums!” Lorelei exclaims angrily.

“Tough!” Rory shoots back. “I’m thirty. You don’t get to be a disapproving mother at my age. So either make nice, and I mean _genuinely_ make nice, or I’ll be spending a lot of time with Grandma and the Huntzbergers.”

“You’re going to cut me out?”

“You’re going to make that choice. You’ve cut me out for the last two months because I’m seeing someone you don’t like, based on an impression that is a decade old. If that’s what you want to do, that’s your decision. But I’m tired of giving in to you when you freeze me out just so we can get along again. I’m not doing it this time.” She stands and picks up her handbag. “I’m meeting Lane for lunch. You can let me know tomorrow if you want us here on Thursday. We already told Grandma we would spend Thursday night and the weekend with her.”

She sweeps from the room, leaving a stunned Lorelai in her wake.

* * *

 

  
Many hours later, Rory says hello to Logan’s doorman and heads to the elevator. Lunch with Lane had cheered her up significantly, as had the text from her mother that said “ _Bring the blond to Thanksgiving - I’ll do my best to be nice. Promise._ ” Letting herself in, she shed her coat and followed her nose to the kitchen.

“I do love a man that cooks,” she notes, appreciatively eyeing the way he stands at the stove in jeans and an Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

He grins. “Does that mean you love me?”

She leans up for a kiss before leaning into him, arms wrapping around his midsection. “You know it does.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head before nodding to the fridge. “There’s white open in the fridge, or we could open that cabernet you like if you want that instead.”

She pours herself some white before hopping onto the counter, enjoying watching the ease and assuredness with which he moved around the kitchen.

“You are officially invited to Thanksgiving dinner at the Dragonfly,” she informs him. “It’ll be us, Sookie and her family, Mom and Luke, Grandma, Luke’s sister and her family, and Miss Patty, so we’ll have to be sure to keep you away from her and her wandering hands.”

“Miss Patty has wandering hands?” he laughs. “I thought she was all talk no action.”

“Oh no, we used to have to hide Dean from her and Babette if we were at an event with a bar or Founder’s Day Party Punch. They got handsy with him once and I’m not sure he ever truly got over it.”

“Wow. Just wow.”

“The delights of Stars Hollow,” she says, draining her glass, “can only be truly appreciated in person.”

“The only thing that would make that Thanksgiving dinner better would be if the town mayor was there. What was his name?”

“Taylor Doose! I forgot you were obsessed with him!” Rory exclaims. “He won’t be there at the dinner, but we’ll arrange another trip to the Hollow for you to observe him to your heart’s content.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re settled at the dining room table, tucking into dinner.

“So are we going to talk about your trip to see your mom or just dance around it?” Logan finally ventures.

She fixes him with a stink eye and takes a large bite of her food. After a minute, she puts her fork down and reaches for her wine glass. “So Mom obviously has invited you to dinner. She’s not used to me pushing back when she cuts me out of her life. I’ve never really done it, but she did it several times when I was younger and at Yale. And it was only when I caved to what she wanted that she’d speak to me again.”

She pauses and takes another sip of wine.

“But the thing is, I don’t want to cave on this, and I told her that if she insisted on acting this way, that it would be her choice if we no longer spoke. But that I was done caving in to her demands simply to make peace.”

Logan reaches across the table to cover her hand with his own. “Well, she seems to have taken it well, since I’ve been invited. And you did the right thing, standing up to her that way.”

Rory snorts at that. “It was easier interviewing a combative Mahmoud Ahmadinejad when he was at the heights of his aggression to the US.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his attentions back to the plate in front of him and Rory continues, “We’ll see how she is at dinner. There are enough buffers there that it shouldn’t be too bad, either way.”

“Anything is better than dinner with my parents, Ace.”

“ _That_ goes without saying.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through the longer time in between posting chapters. ICYMI, I posted two one-shots since I posted my last chapter, both available via my profile. Those are both A Year In The Life compliant, whereas this is...not. Please let me know your thoughts via the comments - it seriously makes my day to get your comments, feedback, etc.

Thanksgiving has always been one of Rory's favorite holidays; something about gorging yourself on food while surrounded by those nearest and dearest to you has delighted her since she was little. Perhaps it was the way her mother, Mia, and Sookie would make it special for her at the Independence Inn when she was little, without the stiff formality that was expected at the Gilmore family Christmas.

So it was of little surprise that she woke on Thanksgiving morning excited to head to Stars Hollow and the weekend that awaited her.

"Ace, it's not even eight," Logan complains, half muffled by the pillow and the blankets piled on the bed.

"Yeah, but it's Thanksgiving morning!" she replies, nevertheless burrowing into the covers and closer to the warmth radiating from his body.

"You're like a kid on Christmas, except instead of presents you just get to eat food." His eyes remain closed, but his hands slip from under the pillow and over to her, up under her tank top and down the front of her sleep shorts.

"Oh," she breathes, shifting and arching into his touch.

Logan moves suddenly, rolling her onto her back. "Your love of unexpected holidays is part of your charm," he murmurs while kissing his way down her body, taking her tank top with him.

"What else do you find charming?"

"Compliment-hungry today, are we?" he laughs from just above her navel.

"Oh, I'm definitely _hungry_ ," she says, innuendo thick her her voice.

"Well, I've never been one to leave my best girl wanting, have I?" he said, beginning to pull down her shorts.

#####

Several hours later Logan enters Stars Hollow with unconcealed anticipation on his face. "How should I announce my presence? Speed through town? Run the one red light? Create some sort of disturbance?"

She smacks his arm playfully. "Don't be two, Logan. Besides, I think the Tesla announces your presence enough on its own. There aren't many luxury vehicles in Stars Hollow."

"C'mon, Ror, I want to see Taylor," he whines, looking around town.

"I suppose we can stop at Luke's for coffee and then hit Doose's on some trumped-up errand," she concedes, "as long as you behave yourself."

"Will you punish me if I'm naughty?" His voice drops suggestively.

"Um, we're staying at my Grandmother's this weekend and I doubt we'll be in the pool house, so any punishments would have to wait until we return to the city," she flirts with a wink. "But I'm sure one could be arranged if you're a very, very bad boy."

"Excellent. You're always so creative with them."

"Oh. My. God. You _have_ to get this out of your system before we see my family!" she exclaims as he parks in front of Luke's. "No innuendo, no double entendres, nothing."

They get out of the car and take in the sight of the town square decorated for Thanksgiving. "When your town commits, it commits," Logan comments, seemingly taken aback by the sheer volume of decorations adorning every available space in the square.

"Yeah, we don't do anything halfway." Rory stares through Luke's large windows, not even paying attention to the square. "So, uh, I should have realized something but I didn't and I don't want this to be a problem. It's not one for me and I'm hoping it's not one for you," she rambles, twisting her hands nervously.

"Whoa, what's going on?"

"Jess is here." She gestures to the diner. "Luke's nephew? I guess I should have assumed, he's Luke's nephew and Liz and TJ will be at the Inn for dinner." Logan stares through the diner window, nonplussed. "But your last meeting was not really the greatest showing for either of you, but he and I do generally get along…" she trails off.

"Hey, hey, hey, no need to babble your way into an anxiety attack. Last time I met the guy was ten years ago, I was pissed at my dad, and took it out on him. No fights in the middle of Luke's, promise," he says, dropping a kiss onto her nose and taking her hand into his own. "Now why don't you go re-introduce me and I will show you how nicely I can behave?"

She fixes him a stern look. "Okay, but only because I am dying for coffee since someone kept me in bed an hour later than planned this morning."

They walk into the diner, greeted by an enthusiastic Luke, who pulls Rory in for a hug. "I'm glad you're both here for Thanksgiving," he said, gesturing to an empty table by the window. "I'll get some coffee."

They take their table and Rory says hi to Babette and Morey. "Is that the boyfriend Lorelai hates, sugar?" Babette calls.

Rory winces. "This is Logan, Babette. And I'm sure Mom doesn't hate him."

"The same Logan you were dating at Yale, right?"

She nods. Babette leans over to Morey and stage whispers, "She and Lorelai have been fighting about this one for ages."

"Sill taken in by the small town charm?" she quips as Luke pours them coffee.

"I'd say you obviously don't want to eat because you're saving room for the feast Sookie is cooking, but I know you too well and figured you'd want a burger. Are you as crazy as she is?" He fixes a slightly narrowed gaze on Logan.

"Uh, I was actually planning to skip lunch because I've heard about Sookie's Thanksgiving -" he trails off at Rory's outraged expression. "But obviously if Rory's eating, I'm eating. A burger sounds great," he amends quickly.

"Coming right up."

They settle into easy conversation, and the re-meeting of Jess and Logan goes very smoothly, much to Rory's relief. "Last time we met, I was actively trying to be an ass, Ace, I told you, this would be fine," he says easily, tucking into his burger.

"I'm glad. I'm never sure when one of you will be…prickly. And we'll have enough of that later with my mom and grandma," she replies, rolling her eyes. "All they do is snipe at each other."

"Well, won't I be there to draw fire? From your mother, at least?"

"No, she promised to be nice, remember? Actually," she smiles, "Jess will more than likely draw her fire. If there's one person at that dinner my mom hates more than you, it's Jess."

He looks at her curiously. "Why so much Jess hate?"

"I was a rebellious youth," Jess says dryly, refilling Rory's coffee mug, "and was largely unimpressed with Lorelai Gilmore. That didn't sit well with her. Do you want more coffee?"

"Sure. So what does 'unimpressed' mean exactly?"

Jess sits at their table, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "I dated Rory over her objections. I didn't particularly care what she thought about me. I didn't care what anyone in town but Rory thought about me. I didn't find her comedy bits funny and didn't pretend I did."

"Ah, so you didn't play the game with her."

"Yeah, and I might have mouthed off to her a few times."

"And there's the whole crashed my car and broke her daughter's wrist part. Oh, and the broke her daughter's heart and left town without saying anything part. Don't want to leave those out," Rory chimes in.

"Thanks for bringing those up; we would definitely hate for Logan to not have the full picture of what a little shit I was," Jess snarks.

"Hey, she didn't talk to Luke for almost five months after the car accident, that's how big of a deal it was! She kept going to Weston's or Sookie's for breakfast and coffee, she grew so desperate."

"Speaking of Sookie," Logan interjects, checking his watch, "should we start heading to the Inn? It's almost two."

"You guys head over, Luke and I are showing up around four." Jess shoves back from the table and waves away Rory's cash. "Your money isn't good here, you know that."

"You get good service," Logan comments as he helps Rory into her coat. "Now, what can we get from Doose's?"

"He might not even be there, you know, so don't get your hopes up."

"A man can dream."

#####

If Logan has any misgivings about seeing Lorelai as they stroll up to the Dragonfly a short time later (no Taylor in sight at the market, sadly), Rory can't detect a trace of it. Then again, self-assuredness - arrogance, some might say - was never Logan's problem.

"Rory and Logan! Thank _God_!" Lorelai pops out onto the porch looking relieved to see them and more than a little frazzled.

"Uh, hey, Mom. Oh!" Lorelai sweeps Rory into a fierce hug, practically knocking her off of her feet. "Great to see you, too, but what's with this welcome?"

"My mother has been here over an hour. I don't know if she got the time wrong, or I told her the wrong time, or she deliberately showed up hours early, but you. need. to. distract. her." She turns to Logan. "He should help with the distraction. Hi, Logan."

"Hey, Lorelai, thanks for the invitation. The Inn looks beautiful."

"We can talk about my decorating later. _Get inside_!" She shoves them through the front door and towards Emily who was sitting in the front room of the Inn with tea, a book, and a look of severe displeasure on her face.

"Lorelai," she starts in a strident tone, but her face breaks into a smile at the sight of Rory and Logan.

"Look who's here, Mom: the kids! And I think Sookie's calling me from the kitchen, so I'll send out some wine and snacks and they'll visit with you, okay?" Lorelai beats a hasty retreat back to the kitchen.

"'Visit with me,' like I'm old and infirm," Emily mutters to herself before rising to greet them."It _is_ lovely to see you both, though, particularly after Rory's insistent assertions that you were 'just friends' earlier this fall."

"Oh, Grandma, things weren't entirely…settled, I guess. Didn't want to get your hopes up," Rory laughs, kissing her cheek. "We are looking forward to spending some time with you this weekend."

"I'm very grateful for the company, especially since I'm approving Richard's gravestone this weekend."

Logan shoots Rory a quizzical look before kissing Emily hello. "I thought that had already been delivered?"

"The granite company is completely incompetent! I will spare you the ugly details, but they have displayed a truly shocking level of uselessness I wouldn't have believed possible of an otherwise seemingly prosperous business."

Rory and Logan exchange amused glances and steer the conversation towards their work and Emily's social life instead.

#####

"This bedroom is horrifying," Logan remarks many hours later as he flops back on her pink coverlet. "From the 98 Degrees poster to the stuffed animals to all this _pink _…I'm so grateful I've never seen this before."__

"Mom's room is even worse," she replies, poking through her overnight bag for her toiletries. "There are like, fifteen dolls just staring at you in her room." He groans at the thought. "I think what makes this room so awful is that she decorated it for me when I was sixteen. It was a nice gesture, but I was horrified by the decor even then. The pool house was much more to my liking."

"No dolls staring at us in the pool house. Any chance of a move?"

"I wish," she flops next to him on the bed, "we share a wall with her bedroom in here."

"Christ. In our thirties and still getting cockblocked by the elders. And I thought my family was devious." He scrubs a hand over his face.

"Even the almighty Huntzbergers have nothing on Emily Gilmore."

#####

They're on the Hudson Parkway, nearly back to the City, when Rory gets the text from Lorelai. _"Thanks for coming up this weekend and for spending more than just Thanksgiving. I know it's partly Logan's bizarre obsession with Taylor, but still."_ She's about to text back when three dots appear again, so she holds off, waiting for more. _"I might have been wrong…it's occasionally been known to happen. ;) Can you and blondie come and spend some time at Christmas?"_

"Wellll," she drawls, grinning. "Guess your charm has won over the last holdout among the Gilmore women. You've been invited at Christmas."

"Wow. That turnaround was swift."

"Yeah, I think my ultimatum freaked her out. I don't think she liked be on the other end of a freeze-out." She leans her head back against the seat. "I so don't want to go to work tomorrow. And I have a crap ton of laundry to do."

"Adulting is hard," he sympathizes.

"Says the man who sends his laundry out and owns the company so can show up whenever," Rory scoffs.

"It's efficient to send out laundry!" he protests. "Plus, I'm contributing to the economy and ensuring I stay appropriately dressed, since I really don't know how to work an iron."

"Still?"

"Yeah, the only reason there was one in our apartment at Yale was because you bought it," he admits sheepishly. "And I am always punctual to the office, don't you go slandering my good name."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They share a contented smile.

"So I take it this laundry talk means you need to spend the night at your place?"

"I don't think there's anything in my bag or at yours that I can wear to work," she replies regretfully. "You could stay at mine, though."

"Your bed is smaller than mine and not very comfortable," he grouses. "But I could probably make do for a night with what's in my bag and at your place already."

"Well, we don't all live in multi-million lofts in the West Village with fancy mattresses, Logan," she reminds him saucily. "Besides, better my uncomfortable mattress and no Emily than the comfortable bed surrounded by pink damask and boy band posters and stuffed animals, right?"

"God, yes, anything is better than that nightmare of a room."

"Even my teeny tiny Hells Kitchen apartment with its miserable mattress and suspect elevator?"

"Even that hole of an apartment you shared with Paris at Yale was better," he says dryly.

"Wow. You must really hate that room because you loathed that apartment," she comments.

"So," he begins, steering the car off the Parkway and onto surface streets, "are you going to give any further thought to what my Dad brought up at dinner?"

"Ah, yes, the poaching." She's silent, watching the Upper West Side flash past outside. "We joked about it before Thanksgiving, but it's something else to hear him offer it in person."

"And?" he prompts quietly.

"I just can't see it right now, Logan. I love the _Times_. I've been working towards it for years. Years. And a fairly large part of me still remembers your dad telling me I 'didn't have it', and I'm not sure I'll ever get past that with him. I can smile at dinner and be polite because he's your dad, but that wrecked me for a long time, and you know that."

He slides the car into a parking spot on 74th. "I know there's no way you have food at your place, so I figured we'd stop at Fairway and stock up before we head home."

Her eyes light up. "Ooh, good call." She turns to face him in the confines of the car. "You haven't weighed in with an opinion on the HPG stuff yet."

"I get not wanting to work for my Dad. More than anyone could possibly understand," he smiles, and she lets out a small laugh. "He won't be there forever, though, and when that happens I will do everything in my power to bring you on board as HPG's newest acquisition."

Her breath catches in her throat at the determined look he is giving her. "I just want to be clear that rejecting his offer is not a rejection of you."

He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. "Understood. I know what the _Times_ means to you." They move to exit the car into the brisk New York City air. "Huntzbergers take their acquisitions very seriously, you know," he remarks casually.

"Do they?" she replies absentmindedly, running through a mental grocery list.

"Yep. And you're definitely on the radar for acquisition by the Huntzbergers."

She stops short. "The Group or the family?"

"Maybe both," he says quietly.

She stops on the street and turns to face him, smiling. "Oh really?"

He slides a hand into her coat and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her against him. "Definitely on the radar," he murmurs before leaning in to kiss her.

"Good to know," she says against his lips before pulling away and looking around them, embarrassed. "We are in the middle of the sidewalk."

"Discussing mergers and acquisitions is a perfectly acceptable street conversation, Ace," he says with a grin in her direction. He releases her waist and grabs her hand.

"We have always _merged_ rather well," Rory says as they walk into the market.

"I thought this was an innuendo-free weekend!"

"No more parents or grandparents," she says condescendingly as if it were obvious, the 'duh' implicit in her voice. "Ban lifted."

"Damn, and I completely forgot to accrue a punishment this weekend," he says with mock sadness.

"I'm sure something can be arranged after dinner."

**Author's Note:**

> I think there's more in me on this one, so not marking as complete just yet. Let me know what you think!


End file.
